


Sweet taste of pie, and a strong coffee smell.

by fictionalabyss



Series: SPN Kinkbingo 2018 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shop Owner Dean Winchester, F/M, Finger Sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalabyss/pseuds/fictionalabyss
Summary: Dean Winchester owns the coffee shop next to your bakery, and you never sell a new flavor of pie unless Dean tries it first.Written for SpnKinkBingo - Finger sucking squareAnd SpnFluffBingo - Coffee shop Au square





	Sweet taste of pie, and a strong coffee smell.

You burst through the door of the coffee shop next to your small bakery, and everyone looked up. “ **Dean!** ”

“What? What’s going on?” He quickly put down the mug he had been working on and hurried around the counter. Without skipping a beat, one of the other baristas picked up where he left off.

“I need you to come with me.”

“What’s wrong?” He untied the apron he’d been wearing and tossed it aside, worry etched his face. “Are you okay?”

“ **Just hurry!** ” You grabbed his wrist and dragged him next door to your shop.

“You’re empty?” He glanced around. “Your place is _never_ empty.”

“I’m closed.” You shut and locked the door behind him.

“Why are you closed?”

“You’ll see.”

You hurried to the back, and Dean followed. But as he did, he kept sniffing at the air. “You’ve been baking.. New recipes?”

“Yeah.” As soon as he was in the back kitchen, you pulled him to you and kissed him.

He chuckled softly before pulling back. “Sweetheart, you _know_ I don’t like saying no to you, but I’m packed next door and-”

“Trust me.” You pulled him closer again. “You’ll like it.”

His lips met yours hard and he backed you against the counter, groaning when you opened your mouth to him. His hands moved down from your hips to your ass, kneading it like he did the dough for the buns he baked fresh next door for the lunch rush, and then he gripped it tight, lifted you up and sat you on the counter.

“You can’t keep pulling me out of work to fuck.” He mumbled, his lips going along your jaw.

“I _didn’t_.” Your head went back, his hands were moving slowly up your waist under your shirt.

“Then why am I here?”

Turning your head to the right, while he sucked a dark mark below your left ear, you reached back for a moment before producing a finger with a glob of bright green. “I brought you here to taste the new recipe’s I’m trying.”

He glanced at your finger. “What the fuck is _that_?”

You chuckled. “It goes by Grasshopper pie. And no, it’s not grasshoppers. Open.”

Dean opened his mouth, and you placed your finger against his tongue. His lips closed around it, and you bit your bottom lip as you felt the muscle move along your finger and he groaned, sucking your finger clean as you slowly pulled it out. “ _Fuck_ , that’s good. Minty?”

“Crème de Menthe.” You smiled. “Marshmallows.”

“And the crust?” His eyes were locked on yours. You had learned early on that Dean Winchester took pie _very_ seriously. In fact, the first conversation you had with him, the day you opened up next to his coffee shop, had been an argument about pie. Two days later, you proved him wrong by shoving a spoon in his mouth and watching him melt. And the next morning, you woke up with him in your bed. The argument was long forgotten, you can’t even remember what it was about, but the lesson learned was learned well. It’s been two years of Dean tasting your recipes before you’ll even consider selling them.

“Chocolate wafer. Good?”

“Again.” You dipped your finger in the pie a second time, scooping some up. He held your wrist this time as he brought the digit to his mouth, and cleaned it off with his tongue. As soon as your finger was out of his mouth, his lips were on yours. You could taste it on him, and it seemed to pair perfectly with the smell of coffee that lingered on him. “Mm. Amazing.” he smiled against your lips.  “What else did you make today?”

“Boston Creme pie.” You answered as he kissed your chin before ducking his head and kissing your neck again.

“Not a real pie.” He grumbled into your skin.

“Chocolate peanut butter cream cheese.”

“Sounds more like a cheese cake. You’re disappointing me, sweetheart.” He teased.

“Cheeseburger pickle pie.”

“I’m not sure if I’m disgusted or intrigued.” He laughed.

You hooked his chin and made him look at you again. “It’s good.” You promised. “Better than the burger you made me the other night.”

“Them’s fightin’ words.” He grinned. “I take my burgers-”

“Almost as seriously as you do pie, _I know_. That’s why I made it. Wanna stay for lunch?”

“Then what’s desert?” His smile grew.

“Me.” You grinned. “You can eat the pink lemonade pie off me.”

“ _Pink lemonade?_ Is it like a lemon meringue?”

“No.” You reached over to your left, pulling a pie dish closer before your finger went in and came out covered in the bright pink filling. “It’s better.”

His mouth opened, and your finger went in. He groaned around it as he sucked it clean and then some. You had your bottom lip between your teeth as his tongue swirled around it, as if searching for more.

“Now, about lunch-”

“Only if you keep feeding me like this.” He grabbed the hem of your shirt, and pulled it up and over your head before tossing it. “And only if we can do it naked.”

“Have I _ever_ said no to that?”

Taking two fingers this time, you pushed them into the cheeseburger pie, scooped some out as best as you could and fed it to him. His mouth warm and wet around the two fingers before you slowly pulled them out, his teeth scraping along your skin. “ _Damn_ , that’s good..”

You smiled. “I also considered making Mac and cheese with bacon pie..”

“Fuck, I love you.”

“You-” You stared at him, he’d never said that before. He’d never even so much as hinted that he wanted more than the friendship that the two of you had. Sure you got together and ate, or fucked, but you were friends. Nothing more. “ _Love me?_ ”

One of his hands came up and cupped your face. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, actually…” You lips started to move, to ask what, but no sound came out. “What do you think about merging the two shops together?”

You were stunned for all of a second. “ _What?_ ” You gave him a look a disbelief. “Dean, you can’t just tell a girl you love her and then-” He started to laugh. “ **Dean!** ”

“Go out with me. Tonight. Not just our usual drinks and shit, I mean a _proper_ dinner date.”

“Date?”

He smiled. “I do love you. I have since that day you proved that you could improve on the best pecan pie recipe I’ve ever had. You shoved that spoon in my mouth, said ‘ _Now shut up about it_ ’ and I was done for.”

“ _That’s_ what it was about…” You mumbled.

“Yeah. And I ate that fucking pie for three weeks straight.” He grinned.

“And you got _sick._ ”

“But not sick of you.” He smiled. “Now, it’s your turn.” He scooped up some of the grasshopper pie onto his finger and held it up. “Open up, sweetheart.” Opening your mouth, he slid his finger in and you sucked the smooth mint filling off his finger as seductively as possible. “I’ve always loved that mouth of yours.”


End file.
